


You Haunt All My What Ifs

by KCKenobi



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Missing Scene, Mutual Pining, Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, Obitine, Past Obi-Wan Kenobi/Satine Kryze, Poetry, Romantic Angst, Satine Kryze Needs a Hug, Secret Relationship, Unresolved Romantic Tension, the character death is just the one we already see in canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:53:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26285248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KCKenobi/pseuds/KCKenobi
Summary: But then she saw the way Obi-Wan’s lip was quivering, and his eyes were shining, and she realized—He hadn’t called because he needed to tell her. He’d called because heneeded her.“Obi-Wan,” she breathed. “Oh, Obi-Wan…”And she wanted to reach out, to hold him. To be his refuge, his shelter, his home. Instead she just watched as he shook his head, palmed at his eyes, apologized. She reached out. Touched the hologram.It flickered.—[Satine and Obi-Wan—then, now, and every echo ofwhat ifbetween them.]
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Satine Kryze
Comments: 32
Kudos: 133





	You Haunt All My What Ifs

**_T H E N_ **

When he left her, the galaxy cheered.

She was standing on the landing platform, surrounded by Mandalorian nobles. Since returning to her homeplanet, Satine hadn’t managed a moment without their watchful eyes. And they were expecting her to lead—now things were supposed to go back to normal. She was supposed to walk into the palace. She was supposed to address Sundari, to speak to her people, to let their cheers wash over her and sink into her skin because _this was where she belonged_.

But as she looked at Obi-Wan, she wasn’t certain that it was.

“Duchess,” he said softly, bowing his head. His Padawan braid bumped against his shoulder as he raised it again.

After a year on the run, she had him memorized. She’d seen his face when he was angry, excited, coy. When he was sick, when he was tired, when he needed the ‘fresher. She knew every nuance, the meaning behind every lilted brow and pursed lip.

Yet she’d never seen him like _this_.

He backed away—step after hesitant step—still holding her eyes, like he was waiting. Waiting for her to say something else.

She didn’t.

He turned away. Mandalore cheered behind her, waiting. She watched herself lose him.

And the worst part was, as he left, she almost expected he’d come back to her. Turn around, say he’d stay, take his place beside her before Sundari’s endless crowd.

He didn’t, though.

But that didn’t stop her from wondering what would’ve happen if she’d asked.

**_N O W_ **

When she left him, Maul laughed.

Obi-Wan felt her growing limp in his arms, felt her weight shifting, felt her leave. Satine’s eyes fluttered, then closed. He felt blood dripping onto his hand.

And as the rage pumped through him, and the despair, and the agony, all he could focus on was her face—empty now, blank, but he saw everything in it. Saw how she’d laughed when he fell into the creek fishing with Qui-Gon, at how his boots had squeaked on the walk back to their camp. He saw how she’d screamed at him in the dining room on the Coronet, at his _sarcasm of a soldier_ , at his _half-truths and hyperbole_. He saw her face tilted toward the stars as she recited poetry from memory, how he fell in love not with the hair across her forehead but the brain beneath it.

And then he saw her now—empty. Gone.

The worst part was, as she left, he almost expected she’d come back to him. Talk her way out of death, sit up and scold him for crying, berate Maul for his violence.

She didn’t, though.

But that didn’t stop him from wondering what would’ve happened if he’d been just a little faster.

**_T H E N_ **

Satine was reading out on the balcony. It was late, and the stars were bright and endless, and she wondered which one Obi-Wan was nearest to now.

Her eyes skimmed the words without really reading them—

_Hope_

_Smiles from the threshold of the year to come,_

_Whispering 'it will be happier'..._

She was twenty-five now. And each year since he left, her hope grew smaller.

Satine was just starting to yawn, thinking perhaps she ought to bookmark the page and turn in for the night, when her com buzzed. She tucked the book under her arm, stepping inside to answer it. Though she wore only a nightgown, she didn’t bother to change—the com was from her personal frequency. Only family had the code. Family, and—

“Obi-Wan?”

And for a moment, they both simply stared. As if the hologram was frozen, Obi-Wan stood rigid, unblinking, as if he couldn’t remember why he’d called. He looked worn. And, Satine noticed, his Padawan braid was gone.

When he finally spoke, his tone was formal.

“I’m sorry to disturb you at such a late hour, Duchess,” he said, tucking his hands inside his sleeves. “But I thought I should tell you.”

He stopped talking suddenly, and she saw him swallow.

“Tell me…?”

He swallowed again. “Qui-Gon Jinn is dead.”

He closed his mouth and then reopened it, as if there were more to say. He spoke as though this were official business—as if Jedi regularly delivered death notices in the middle of the night. And perhaps it _was_ official. Perhaps the Jedi had assigned him this task, knowing Satine had known Qui-Gon, that she would want to pay her respects…

But then she saw the way Obi-Wan’s lip was quivering, and his eyes were shining, and she realized—

He hadn’t called because he needed to tell her. He’d called because he _needed her._

“Obi-Wan,” she breathed. “Oh, Obi-Wan…”

And she wanted to reach out, to hold him. To be his refuge, his shelter, his home. For a moment, she actually let herself consider it—boarding a ship, going to Coruscant. She could do it. It wouldn’t be practical. But what if she did?

Instead she just watched as he shook his head, palmed at his eyes, apologized. She reached out. Touched the hologram.

It flickered.

**_I N B E T W E E N_ **

It looked like the end.

Tal Merrik’s hand didn’t waver as he held the blaster to Satine’s head, and neither did his eyes—Obi-Wan knew he couldn’t negotiate.

Satine knew she didn’t have time left to wait.

The words came out cheesy, feeble—“ _I have loved you since the moment you came to my aid…”_ —and she almost scolded herself. For all the poetry she’d read, for all the prose that lined the bookshelves in her bedroom, none of them could lend her their grace now.

“Satine, this is hardly the time—”

His voice broke off. Because it _had_ to be the time. If not now…

“Alright,” Obi-Wan said softly. “Had you said the word…”

He knew it was a ridiculous thing to say—she would _never_ have asked. Even if she’d wanted to, how could she? He’d be leaving behind his family, as Jedi count such things. He’d be leaving behind his life. She would have been asking him to give her everything, even knowing she could never do the same for him.

_Duty,_ he thought. _Always duty_. _For both of us. It must be._

_But_ _what if it wasn’t?_

As it turned out, it wasn’t the end. A lightsaber ignited—Anakin’s—and Merrik fell at their feet.

Maybe now, they had a future. But the past still echoed between them.

**_T H E N_ **

The door slammed, and Obi-Wan fought the urge to groan out loud.

Anakin was fourteen—he was only acting as fourteen-year-olds tended to do. But as Obi-Wan relived their fourth argument of the day, as he heard Anakin kick over a bucket of miscellaneous droid parts behind the closed bedroom door, Obi-Wan exhaled. _Teenagers_. _Force give me strength._

He collapsed onto the couch in the living room, a budding headache behind his eyes. Really, he could use a nap. Of course, he had papers to grade, and mission reports to write, but certainly a couple minutes with his head down couldn’t do much harm—

But then he felt it. Beneath the couch cushion, somewhere under his head, a lump. He stuck his hand down, feeling around the lost pen caps and loose change, until he fished it out: a book of poetry. Tennyson, Satine’s favorite. It had been a gift from her, actually—after he’d insisted he preferred prose, _she’d_ insisted he just needed to find the right poet.

He sat up, flipping through the pages in search of her highlighting. He’d always despised that—she wrote all over her books, while he preferred to leave them crisp and pristine. But there it was, the handwriting in the margins, her steady hand underlining the words:

_Be near me when I fade away,_

_To point the term of human strife,_

_And on the low dark verge of life_

_The twilight of eternal day._

_Be near me_ , Obi-Wan repeated to himself. And as he sat there, rereading the words and remembering how she’d read them aloud to him once, long ago, he could almost hear her voice now. Could almost imagine she _was_ near him.

He traced his finger along the yellowing page, wishing it were true.

**_N O W_ **

As the sword tore through her, all she could see was his face.

Then, nothing.

Satine was falling. Vaguely heard Maul laughing somewhere behind her. She hoped Obi-Wan would leave—hoped he was already gone—even knowing he wouldn’t be. She hit the ground, and the pain was so acute she couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe—

Yet, somehow, this felt right. She didn’t realize it until then, but she had always expected to find Obi-Wan by her side at the end. His arms beneath her, holding her head up as she felt it start to sag. She wasn’t sure, but she thought she saw him start to cry.

And then suddenly she was thinking of every little _what if_ —the other paths they could’ve taken, the millions of ways they could’ve ended up here. She imagined a future where he’d stayed. She saw white weddings, crying infants, painting nursery rhymes on a pale bedroom wall. She saw herself rolling over in the middle of the night, bumping shoulders, feeling his warm breath on her face. She saw family dinners, rushed breakfasts as they hurried the kids off to school. She saw laughter. She saw a lifetime. And at the end, she saw herself old and gray, holding his hand, his eyes the last thing she’d ever see.

They had arrived at the end now. But she was not old and gray.

Obi-Wan said her name. His voice broke. And then she choked out the words:

“ _I’ve loved you always.”_

His face started to blur. She was fading, on the edge of life, the verge of something else. Twilight. Goodbye.

“ _I always will.”_

And as she left him, one thought remained: if she could not live in his arms, at least she would die in them.

**_T H E N_ **

Qui-Gon was waiting.

Since they’d returned to Mandalore, everything was a blur. They’d landed. Holorecorders started to flash. Satine was engulfed by advisors and press and security. The wind swept her hair, the glass of Sundari Palace reflected light onto her cheeks, the distance growing and growing and growing.

And Obi-Wan watched himself lose her.

Qui-Gon had excused himself, told Obi-Wan he’d give him a moment. Not _a moment to say goodbye_. Just _a moment_. Like he knew there might not be a goodbye. Like he knew—

_If she asks…_ Obi-Wan’s heart felt as though it pumped mercury through his veins—every heartbeat burned. _If she asks…_

And then she was there.

Security officers still loomed—gone were the days of just the two of them, off to swim in a nearby lake or reading aloud to each other to pass the time. There was no privacy. And yet, whatever had to be said, had to be said now.

“Obi-Wan…”

Her eyes—he had them memorized. He’d seen them when she was angry, afraid, joyful. When she was laughing at him, when she was yelling at him, when she was dancing with her head on his shoulder.

But this—

In the end, she didn’t ask. Only murmured, “ _I wish you safe passage back to Coruscant._ ” Took a step back. Didn’t move.

And as he watched the glass reflect light on her face, as he barely kept himself from tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, as he stood there, as he stared, as he broke—

He stepped backward at last.

_What if he’d stepped forward?_

He mouthed a goodbye.

_What if he’d stayed?_

He turned around and lost her eyes. Lost them forever, but felt their gaze through the back of his head as he took a step, and another, and another.

She watched him the whole way, though he didn’t dare look back. And with each thump of his boots on the ground, he knew it even then:

He’d spend the rest of his life haunted by what could have been, and all the echoes of _what if._

**Author's Note:**

> I tried to structure this like the show The Last Five Years, where one half of the couple tells their story from beginning to end, and the other tells it from end to beginning, and they meet in the middle, and all I have to say is—mad props to the writers of that musical, cause this was HARD lol. Planning it required some math and a handwritten timeline, I was literally the meme of the woman with equations around her head while outlining this, like, “Okay, scene 1 for Obi-Wan corresponds in the timeline with Satine’s scene 3, but wait Satine gets two POV scenes before the midpoint while Obi-Wan only has one, and—”
> 
> ANYway…the title is based on the song cardigan by Taylor Swift, and all the poems are Alfred, Lord Tennyson’s. We love lit nerd Obi-Wan Kenobi and his equally literary love, Satine!
> 
> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are always appreciated 😊  
> my star wars tumblr: [ kckenobi ](https://kckenobi.tumblr.com/)


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